Tour Life!
by beezyland
Summary: Snapshot moments of when Kaylie Cruz goes on tour with Damon Young and the Shelter Pups. Low-budget motel rooms, a nasty tour bus, foul-mouthed rock stars and a shared love of music. What happens on tour…gets put on YouTube. Damon/Kaylie/Razor OT3
1. Urbana, IL

Disclaimer: Don't own!

A/N: There's no real plot. It's more a collection of moments that happen when Kaylie Cruz goes on tour with Damon Young and the Shelter Pups. What happens on tour…gets put on YouTube. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Tour Life**

Kaylie gets a little lost in the months after the 2012 Olympics. She spent her entire life working up to that moment, working for the dream, and then she gets there, to the top of the roller coaster, rides it out. Then what's she to do after the ride stops? Get back in line and ride it again? According to Payson, that's the answer, but for Kaylie, she doesn't know.

At a chanced meeting, Damon suggests she go on tour with him and after a lot of thinking, Kaylie takes him up on the offer. Something just feels right about accepting. It's new and intriguing and exciting. He admits to her that he didn't think she would and Kaylie gets a little thrill out of being spontaneous. Alex Cruz grumbles and disagrees, says she can at least get another cycle out, but Kaylie's eighteen now. She chooses a grimy tour bus with a bunch of strangers and the boy she kissed and pushed away when she was sixteen.

…

_Urbana, IL_

Being on the road with a bunch of rowdy overgrown children for two shows and two cities so far, Kaylie has somehow mastered the art of sleeping through their ridiculous zoo animal sounds. She actually lucked out in that the guys don't even try to mess with her or hit on her (less about their maturity level and more because Damon would kill and immediately dismiss them from the tour). Instead of bugging her, the guys torturing the drummer, Bats, and Razor is the one planning the said pranks. Sometimes Kaylie doesn't know why she puts herself through this.

"Rise and shine, Merch Girl!" someone shouts.

Kaylie groans and rolls over to her side in the queen size bed that miraculously fits into the back room of the tour bus. It should be Damon's bed because he is the face of the band, but he offered it up to her since she's his guest. Kaylie often teases him about how her presence must be totally cockblocking him, but Damon just gives her that easy smile and says he really doesn't mind, that touring is about the music, not hooking up with girls. Razor quickly disagrees, but Kaylie has learned Damon and Razor disagree about everything.

When Kaylie remains lifeless in bed, the flimsy sliding door (that's more like a plastic curtain) separating the back area of the bus suddenly slides open. "Standing in line to see the show tonight and there's a light on, heavy glow," Damon sings.

"By the way, I tried to say I'd be there," Kaylie softly sings, eyes still closed. "And I don't remember the rest of the words…"

"At least you got the tune down. Your musical education is coming along nicely."

Kaylie turns over and slowly opens her eyes, seeing Damon Young himself, standing at the foot of the bed. "Which is amazing," she says, "considering I've been trapped on this bus since we left Kansas with a drunk Razor dancing to Barbie Girl at least a dozen times every night."

"His lip synching was pretty incredible though, wasn't it?"

Kaylie can't disagree. Damon dives down to lie beside her on the bed, rolling onto his back and staring up at the bus ceiling. "It's okay. Our next stop is Chicago and we're playing two nights so we'll grab a hotel, sleep somewhere other than this bus."

She hums at the pleasant idea of being grounded for once. Kaylie carefully reaches across him, not even concerned when her arm brushes his chest, grabbing her phone off the nightstand. She's become so comfortable around these guys, a drastic change from when she first joined the traveling troupe, always so self-conscious and cautious. After she witnessed the band (minus Damon) drunk and streaking in the middle of nowhere in Kansas, modesty went straight out the window and hasn't been along for the ride since.

"It's already five," Kaylie says. "Why did you let me take such a long nap?"

"You looked really peaceful?" Damon shrugs his shoulders. "We've got to start our sound check soon. It should be a fun show tonight. The University of Illinois is close. College crowd."

"Fun," Kaylie says with fake enthusiasm. "I mean, it was cute, listening to girls gush about your eyes and your voice and how your lyrics speak to them for the first city, but now?"

"Fans will be fans," Damon says loftily. Kaylie rolls her eyes.

"I just thought this would be a little more _Almost Famous_ and a little less manual labor."

"Looks can be deceiving. C'mon. The merch isn't going to sell itself," he says, rocking his legs to gain momentum and get back to his feet. Once he's standing, Damon extends his arm to her and easily helps Kaylie sit up. "By the way, I love that movie. We should Red Box it."

Kaylie smiles as she grabs one of her many Shelter Pups t-shirt, slipping it on over her tank top. "Sounds good."

Damon pops the tab of a Monster and Kaylie easily steals it away from him with a grin. He argues that he needs it more, being the frontman and all, but Kaylie just shakes her head and takes a sip. While Damon charms and is worshiped by fans, Kaylie "Merch Girl" gets screamed at over sizes, has to prevent total anarchy and give out precise change.

…

CDs. Posters. T-shirts. Tote bags. Stickers.

She's barely ever worked a day in her life prior to joining Damon and his merry band of musicians. Now, she's a master at quick, simple addition and subtraction and knows how to handle charge cards like a pro. Standing behind the table of merchandise, Kaylie gets to see the waves and waves of people who pour in just to see her friends perform. Between the rushes, her favorite activity is people watching.

While Kaylie is close with the band and most of the crew and roadies adore her, she knows for a fact that the makeup crew (Razor explained to her the necessity of base makeup so they won't look completely washed-out under the stage lights) and the rest of the merch team totally assumes she's sleeping with Damon or Razor or all of them. Kaylie is annoyed, but she just assumes they're all jealous because, who wouldn't be?

After the shows, all they do is party.

The boy hot box backstage after a little meet and greet with their fans that stay extra late just for a glimpse. Kaylie stumbles out to the alley, bleary-eyed and with a grin. She might have taken a hit or two (or three) only because Razor is insistent and she's curious and it isn't like she's driving and Razor wouldn't let anything happen to her. She isn't totally high, but she's starting to feel it and after a long, hard night of working her ass off, it's nice. Oh, if only Alex Cruz could see his little princess now.

Kaylie scares away a few girls who were trying to peer into the tinted window of the tour bus and she laughs when they gasp and scurry off. She goes inside the first of their two buses (both trashed) and finds Damon celebrating another show with a trash bag in hand, cleaning.

"Hey Mr. Hipster Man, what are you doing in here?" she inquires. Kaylie spins in a little circle before plopping down on the couch. The jacket she's wearing is Razor's, too big for her, sleeves too long, but it's comfy and has Ninja Turtles on the back so she's going to wear it.

"Kaylie Cruz, are you high?" Damon teases. "What would my tour manager think that the girl I invited on tour with us is a pothead?"

"Pothead." She giggles. She's gotten high one other time. That hardly measures up to like, Razor. "By the way, your tour manager is inside, getting high with the owner of the club and your band as we speak."

"We are only human," Damon says with a chuckle. He picks up an empty, ravaged box of pizza soaked through with grease and stuffs it into the trash bag. "Kaylie, we live with animals."

"Yeah, but they're fun animals," she says sleepily. "Why aren't you inside, partying? Razor told me stories about you."

"Ha, I bet he did. That's Razor." Damon grins. "I swore I'd give all that up when Jimi was born. Doesn't mean I won't have a drink. I'm actually legal." He playfully narrows his eyes at her and Kaylie waves him away. She's eighteen. That's legal enough. "But all that other crazy shit Razor is trippin' on all the time? I think I'll pass."

"Me too," Kaylie agrees. She looks over at the cupboard near the little kitchen area to where a photo of Damon and his son is duct taped to the wall. She smiles. She knows it kills him to be away from his son and it's nice to know he's grounded despite the extreme hedonism that orbits him. "Damon, you shouldn't be cleaning. You just finished playing an _amazing_ show. Chill time."

"Someone has to do it. And we've already established that we live with animals."

"No," she grumbles. Kaylie reaches out and tugs on his arm, pulling him to sit on the couch beside her. Kaylie lays her head back against the cushions, comfortably sunk in, while Damon just sits there, upright.

"What are we doing?" he asks.

"Enjoying the moment. The nice, quiet, animal-free moment."

Kaylie slowly opens her eyes and smiles when she sees Damon more relaxed, leaning back and smiling at her. She only has enough time to notice how close they are before loud screaming and hollering interrupts their moment and the animals return to their cage. Razor, drunk and stoned, leads them in as always, squeezing his long-limbed, gangly body between the two on the couch, trying to get Damon to give him a hug.

"What happened to the groupies, Ray?" Kaylie questions.

"Found out they were minors, even younger than you, Cruzie," Razor says, clicking his tongue as he playfully taps a fist against her shoulder. "So we did the _responsible _thing and told 'em to GTFO! Get home before curfew and such."

"Nice, Ray," Kaylie laughs, "it honestly baffles me why you're single."

"Me too," he says, ignoring her sarcasm. "M'kay, know what time it is? Karaoke time! Karaoke time! Karaoke time!"

Razor launches himself off the couch and moves towards the sound system and the little TV mounted in the corner of the bus. As Razor gets the drummer to "sing battle" him (both of them well on their way to plastered) no one really notices the way Kaylie scoots towards Damon and curls up with her head on his shoulder. And they just stay that way for the rest of the night. He doesn't even try to get up and start cleaning again. Kaylie considers it a successful night indeed.

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><p><span>AN: Next stop: Chicago, IL! I honestly don't know what this is or where it's going. All I know is it's random and there will probably be crack. I needed something fun to write. Tell me what's up. _Review_. XOXO


	2. Chicago, IL - Day One

A/N: An Anon visited my tumblr and was like, _girl, when are you going to update your fics_? And I was like, _which fic, Anon_? And they were like, _Tour Life!_ And I was like, _iight! Here!_ I am in no way back to writing, just did it on a whim before my summer trip. You're welcome, baby.

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><p><strong>-BB-<strong>

**Tour Life!**

_Chicago - Day 1_

Razor makes an announcement on the drive.

1) They need to get Kaylie a fake ID

2) They eat deep-dish pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner the entire time they're there

This leg of the tour already sounds promising.

…

Kaylie stares at herself in the bean-shaped sculpture Chicago is known for. It reminds her of a time where she'd look into a mirror and see a distorted image staring back. Before she leads herself back down that dark path through her past, Damon and Razor pop in at either side of her, making their silliest faces. Kaylie smiles as Razor wraps his long arms around both Kaylie and Damon, sandwiching them together in one of many group hugs.

"Kaylie Cruz, how is it you've never had deep dish pizza?" Razor asks. His sunglasses are just as reflective as the sculpture itself. "That is blowing my mind right now."

"Maybe because I was a gymnast since I was five?" Kaylie says. "Deep dish pizza doesn't really help with flying through the air, Razor."

"Like he would know," Damon interjects. "Razor can barely jump three feet off the ground."

Seeing it as a challenge, Razor jumps, bending and twisting his gangly legs to try to prove Damon wrong—his mission in life, actually. Kaylie is already so used to their dynamic and behavior; however, even though they've been practically living together, the boys are still as clueless about gymnastics as Kaylie is about the difference between a kick drum and a snare.

Razor breathes heavily (it's all that smoking, dude) and wipes the (imaginary) sweat from his brows. "Whatever. Luckily, Cruzie, you've got me. I can show you the world."

"Cheesy, greasy wonder by wonder," Damon adds. "Besides overdosing on pizza, what are we doing today?"

Razor and Kaylie don't even have to think before they simultaneously reply, "Shopping!"

"I figured," Damon relents.

"One cannot have too many fedoras, right, Dae?" Razor playfully tugs on the brim of the fedora that sits crooked atop Damon's head. When Damon swings his fists in retaliation, Razor dramatically leaps out of the way.

"No," Kaylie says sternly. "Razor, I told him no more fedoras. Stop feeding his addiction."

"You think you can just promote yourself from Merch Girl to Damon Young's Personal Stylish?" Razor asks. Kaylie gives him a look that says _yeah_. "And I approve of that." Razor tugs on the collar of Damon's plaid, faded maroon button down shirt.

Right as Damon and Razor are about to slap each other silly, Bats, the Shelter Pups drummer, walks over with a hot dog in hand. Razor, appalled and offended, slaps the hot dog out of his hand so it goes flying and hits the ground. Bats falls to his knees and mourns the fallen hot dog. He even stares at it, considering the ten-second rule, but Kaylie grabs him by his t-shirt and yanks him to his feet.

"No," Kaylie says, as if talking to a puppy. Bats makes whiny dog sounds at the back of his throat and tries to nuzzle Kaylie, who just laughs and shoves him away. She learned how to deal with these guys early. Just tell them what to do and shove them around for emphasis.

"Razor, you're such a dick!" Bats shouts. "Dude, a strange older gentleman gave that to me for free! You owe me a new hot dog!"

"Dude, you know the rules! In Chicago, we're only supposed to eat deep dish pizza!" Razor shouts in return. The other groups of tourists and bystanders turn to look, but they're used to it by now. "Oh, Batsy, you know what happens to rule breakers on tour."

"Nothing different from what happens to me every day," Bats complains. It's tough being the butt of every joke and barely even starting the tour. "The strange old gentleman also said to give this to 'The One Called Razor.'"

Bats tosses a brown paper bag over to Razor.

"Careful, Ray, it might self-destruct," Damon jokes.

"No way," Razor says. "It's probably gross old man groupie panties. Razor does not discriminate against his fans no matter race, age, sex and preference in tour presents." When he looks inside the bag, Razor's face lights up. "Sweet! Moby's guy came through! It's perfect! Happy early birthday to the Cruzie!"

Razor reaches into the bag and pulls out a laminated driver's license. He proudly shows it off and the tiny photo looks like Kaylie. In fact, it is Kaylie. It's the picture taken off of her real driver's license. Razor hands it over to her for a look. Damon looks at it from over her shoulder.

"I know what we're going to do tonight!" Razor says. "Celebrate Casey Cruz's 22nd birthday!"

"This is really sweet of you, Ray. There's just one problem," Kaylie says. "I went to the Olympics and brought home gold medals for our country. I get recognized more than all of you combined."

"And why Iowa?" Damon asks. "So Casey Cruz is one of what? The thee Cuban families living there?"

"You don't know how they do in Iowa! And neither will the bartender," Razor replies. "And maybe the bartenders at the spots we hit up don't have cable or Internet or don't know the Olympics exist!"

"Even _I_ knew who Kaylie Cruz was before meeting her," Bats interjects. "And I'm me."

"Don't you and the rest of the equipment bitches have a Cubs game to get to? Go on! Get outta here!" Razor playfully kicks Bat's ass with the side of his sneaker. "And if you come back to the hotel smelling like weenies, God bless you, son!"

Damon chuckles. "Eat some pizza or get blacked out drunk before you come back tonight! That's your choice, Bats! Remember, you always have a choice!"

Bats flips them off behind his head as he walks off. Usually, Razor and Damon would chase him down and make him pay for disrespecting them, but they're too lazy and enough strangers are staring at them, ready to call the cops or something. They'll probably just get him back by the end of the day. They always do.

"You're both horrible, ganging up on him like that," Kaylie scolds them. With their matching, innocent grins, Damon and Razor can be such little children. Kaylie doesn't agree, but she does enjoy seeing them in action depending on the circumstances.

"Aw, Kaylie, he knows we're just playing around. Plus, Bats is an only child. He secretly loves it," Razor says. He worms his way between Kaylie and Damon, hanging one of his long arms around each of their shoulders. "So, shall we shop?"

"I was thinking we could hit up a few museums?" Damon suggests. "I saw an advertisement for the Blue Man Group."

Kaylie and Razor just look at him, deadpan.

Damon rolls his eyes. "Shopping it is."

…

Of course, the boys' translation of "shopping" is a record store. More like a music nerd's paradise. Not only are there records everywhere and the ability to listen to anything you could possibly want, but there's also a rock-n-roll heavenly reading room, featuring old issues of KISS Magazine. Not to mention a really cool staff, including a hot chick at the register giggling as Razor works his natural born Razor charm on her.

"Metal music of the 80s!" Damon says, wearing a big fanboy grin. Kaylie doesn't understand it, but it makes her happy seeing him act out of his cool, moody Damon Young persona. He has two records in hand, holding them with such care, like they're religious items or something.

"You know, it takes the irony out of your nickname when you actually smile," Kaylie points out. "Smiley."

"Kaylie, it's so depressing for me that you aren't half as excited as I am," Damon says, waving the records for emphasis. "Mercyful Fate – Melissa. Megaforce 1983 MRI-369. And a whole bunch of late 80s King Diamond. There is no way you'd find a selection anywhere near all this back at our record stores in Boulder."

"Not a metal girl," Kaylie confesses, as if that wasn't already obvious. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her pink cardigan amongst all the chicks with tats in leather and chains. "I grew up on Madonna, Spice Girls and Ronnie Cruz."

Damon deflates as if just remembering. "Right. Well, as your music guru, I guess it's my job to lead you on your journey to musical salvation."

He's looking at her in that way again with his dreamy, signature Damon Young bedroom eyes and Kaylie has no idea if this is supposed to mean something like _something big something_ or if that's just the way he looks at girls. Before Kaylie can overthink it like she tends to overthink everything, Razor comes running over with something to show her.

"I hit the jackpot in record store finds!"

Razor holds up a magazine with vintage Ronnie Cruz on the cover. There's no escaping it. Her mom was a pop star and even more of a hottie in her prime. But having one of her guy friends ogle an old yet pretty high-quality photo of her mom in her early 20s and half-naked is probably one of the most embarrassing things ever. It's right up there on the scale of humiliation, right under dating Carter Anderson.

Damon whistles. "Do you think she'll sign it if we bring it home?"

"She will fire your ass is what she'll do," Kaylie says, probably an exaggeration, but she doesn't care. When she goes to grab for it, Razor holds it out of her reach. Damn his freakishly long arms! "Razor, put it back!"

When Razor refuses to give it back, Damon steals it away and hands it to Kaylie.

"Don't forget to check out page 36," Razor says. Kaylie rolls up the magazine and hits him with it. "What? You should be proud! Your mom's hot, which means you'll probably retain your hottitude when you're her age. This is cause for celebration!"

"No, it's cause of embarrassment, actually," Kaylie says.

"I'm going to pay for these," Damon says, indicating the records. "You two behave yourselves."

"Easier said than done, Dman."

Kaylie can't help herself and sneaks a peek at page 36. Once she cans over the interview and the other pictures, Jesus Christ, she wishes she hadn't.

…

Because Kaylie won't stop talking about how they wronged her, making her think they were actually going to shop for clothes, the boys give in and take her to a string of cool thrift shops. It still isn't what Kaylie had in mind, but there's some cool stuff.

"Try this on." Kaylie tosses a shirt at Damon. He holds it up in front of him and inspects it. It's a thin white shirt with a geometric design around the collar.

"No." Damon tosses it back. "I'm not an Aztec warrior."

"You're so picky," Kaylie says. "Why can't you be more like Razor?"

They both look over to Razor, who's in front of the mirror, checking himself out in a pair of orange pants with a handsome silhouette and a blue t-shirt with knives repeated over and over.

"I hope to God that wasn't a real question." Damon goes over to look at the collection of vintage Dunhill lighters.

"I found this for you," Razor says, popping up beside her. In one hand he has a pink shirt with a print Andy Warhol's Banana on it and in the other is a black vest top with Andy Warhol's Marilyn Monroe.

"Aw, you know me so well, Ray."

"That I do. _And _I bet I can get Damon to pay for it." Razor winks at her and runs off before Kaylie can tell him it isn't necessary. "Damon! Now I know you haven't gotten Casey Cruz a birthday present yet and I found _the perfect thing_!"

Kaylie smiles, watching Razor talk Damon into something Kaylie doesn't even really want, but will use if Razor makes this happen. Kaylie knows Razor knows this and is only doing it because he enjoys talking Damon into things he wouldn't do on his own. Razor has the verbal skills of a top tier car salesman so it's no surprise when they walk out with bags of clothes.

…

While Kaylie gets her Forever 21 on, Razor does the responsible thing and searches high and low on Yelp for _the best_ deep dish pizza in Chicago. Online reviews lead them to a crowded, homey little pizzeria that advertises just that. Razor is beyond excited while Kaylie and Damon just follow along.

"I'm more of a Brooklyn thin crust guy—"

Razor clamps his hand over Damon's mouth. "Dude! Do you want to get jumped in a dark alleyway! We're in Chicago!"

Kaylie looks over the menu, knowing a salad is out of the question. Damon pries Razor's hand off of his mouth and shoves him off.

"Just let me take care of ordering, okay?" Razor says. "These bad boys are made upside down with the cheese on the bottom and they can weight up to five pounds! Not like the lame cardboard pretenders we made at the Pizza Shack. Get stoked!"

Razor orders a classic supreme deep dish and one that is all meat, including Canadian bacon and even bits of regular bacon. As they wait, Razor tries to come up with a Pizza Song to express his anticipation and undying love, scribbling on a napkin with a ballpoint pen.

When the pizzas finally arrive, Kaylie demands to Instagram it before Razor can even touch it.

"Which filter—"

"Forget your filter! Pizza time!" Razor shouts. "I've been waiting for this since we left Boulder."

When Razor cuts it himself and serves his friends, the cheese stretches and oozes and it all smells like a wonderful heart attack. Seeing Razor go right for it, eating with his hands and a big grin on his face, Kaylie definitely has to Instagram that one too.

…

They end their first night in Chicago, meeting up with the rest of the band at a place with a vintage marquee that glows "Karaoke Every Night." It attracts Razor like a moth to a flame. When they go inside, it turns out Razor called ahead and told the joint that it's "Casey Cruz's birthday" so the employees tape their karaoke session for free.

"Razor, we have a show tomorrow night," Damon reminds him. "We aren't getting too wasted."

"Sure, sure, whatever." Razor waves him off. "We're just going to sing and do shots since it's Casey Cruz's b-day and then we'll sober up after. No big."

"Yeah, birthday shots!" Kaylie cheers, making all the roadies hoot and holler with excitement.

Kaylie smiles and has her fake ID ready and she tries to contain her excitement when the bartender just glosses over it anyways. She tries not to worry about consequences and things like that as Razor orders a round of tequila. This was the whole reason she came on tour in the first place, to have fun, let loose and experience new things the old uptight Kaylie wouldn't even consider. She trusts the guys. What's the worst that can happen?

…

At the end of the night, Kaylie and Damon manage to navigate the streets of Chicago and make it back to their hotel. It isn't completely disgusting, but it isn't the type of hotel Kaylie is used to staying in when she would to travel for meets or with her family.

"Damon, is Razor alive?" Kaylie asks, and sounds genuinely worried about him too. Damon is basically a crutch, holding Kaylie up and shuffling over to the nearest bed for her to go crashing down onto.

"Kaylie, you asked me that same question like, a million times since we left the bar." Damon smiles at the way she automatically curls up. He tosses his phone, room key and a fucking VHS onto the bedside table. "I can't believe they taped us doing karaoke and gave it to us on a VHS. A VHS?"

"Because it's my birthday! Woohoo!" Kaylie pumps her fists in the air. "But, seriously, Damon, is Razor still alive?"

"Ray's a big boy. He looked fine when we left him, smoking a cigarette with those crackhead male go-go dancers."

"Yeah," Kaylie agrees. "Don't you think they were like, cold just in their glittery heels and gold, shiny thongs? Damon, I'm drunk. Like, _drunk_." Kaylie starts giggling. "Not keg stand drunk, but, well, maybe."

"Keg stand drunk?" Damon knows there's a story there, but won't push, at least not tonight, not this early on tour. "But, yeah, you're pretty gone. And I doubt you're going to be much fun to be around in the morning because we are out of aspirin."

"I am lots of fun!" Kaylie argues. "Austin was always saying stuff about how I was never fun and I'm like pshh _he_ was never any fun because he was all insecure about his age and trying to be mature and stuff. Pshh, look at me now, Mr. Old Man Kobalt!"

As Damon sits on the bed across from Kaylie, watching her she make backstroke motions as if swimming on the bed, his smile dims. "You never talk about Austin," Damon says. "Other than saying you two split, you haven't mentioned him at all since the tour started."

"Because we're done-z-o. Golden Couple no more! Good ridden! Don't you remember? He totally tried to kill you that one time!"

Damon laughs weakly and rubs at his tired eyes. "How could I forget? Not one of my proudest moments, no."

"He's the one who was like a raging bull dog with rabies or something! And he _always_ used to lash out at me, whatever." Kaylie turns onto her side and her heavy eyes find Damon looking at her. "And you, you're like a sweet, loyal Labrador retriever. You're like my best boy-guy-man friend, Smiley. Just don't tell Razor I said that because _drama!_"

Damon starts to kick off his shoes. "Did you have fun karaoke-ing in public and not on the bus for once?"

"Yeah!" Kaylie shouts. "Not to humble brag, but Razor and I killed that Biebs song!"

"Three times in a row," Damon mutters. "Good. Because I'm gonna call you onto the stage and we're gonna do a throwback during the show tomorrow." Damon looks at the clock. Fuck. Three in the morning. "Or, I guess, the show later today."

"You're funny," Kaylie says. She swings her arm as if to hit him, thinking he's closer than he actually is, and when her fist falls through the air like dead weight, Kaylie laughs. "Me? Sing? Like _really_ sing? Ha. You're drunk too."

"Nope. I'm not kidding," Damon says, reaching to turn out the lamp. "Goodnight. And happy birthday, Casey Cruz."

"That's not my real name," Kaylie says, sounding so serious in the dark. "G'night, Dae."

In the morning, Kaylie wakes up with Razor sleeping next to her, wearing a legit Chicago Fire Department helmet and an inflatable bird around his waist. Damon has breakfast waiting for her on a tray at her bedside—a strawberry banana smoothie and aspirin on a plate. He also has a box in front of him and when he lifts the lid for Kaylie to see the deep dish breakfast pizza, she gags and runs off to the bathroom.

Once the bathroom door slams, Damon takes another bite of his pizza and shouts, "I wasn't kidding last night! You're singing with us on stage tonight, Kaylie!"

His only reply is the sound of Kaylie barfing her guts out. Damon just turns up the TV and takes another bite of his sloppy slice of pizza.

* * *

><p><span>AN: I want to update this, but I don't know if I will? Ugh, B, you're a fucking tease, I know. Reviews would help? They'd really help because I have zero expectations since this site/fandom is _dead_. Gone are the Golden Days, but if someone is reading this, hope you liked it, love.

xoxo


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